Poems (Waldenburg)/Providence
For works with similar titles, see Providence.
PROVIDENCE.
A tender poet in his verse hath told
The separate destinies that did enfold
Three roses from a florist's window sold.
The separate destinies that did enfold
Three roses from a florist's window sold.
A lover gave the perfect flower to her
Who found in him a faithful worshiper.
Who found in him a faithful worshiper.
The second rose, e'en as its sister fair,
Drooped blushing in an erring woman's hair.
Drooped blushing in an erring woman's hair.
The third a tearful mother, sore bereft,
Within the hand of her dead darling left.
Within the hand of her dead darling left.
Thy pardon, poet, if another sees
Still farther on thy flowers' destinies
And weaves from out thy thought a wider sense
Of the all-watchful eyes of Providence!
Still farther on thy flowers' destinies
And weaves from out thy thought a wider sense
Of the all-watchful eyes of Providence!
Pillowed on bosom fair the flower laid.
Still gold will last while roses sweet must fade.
And from its snowy throne of love and pride
The rose was flung, and on the highway died.
Still gold will last while roses sweet must fade.
And from its snowy throne of love and pride
The rose was flung, and on the highway died.
The Magdalene at midnight stood alone,
The songs, the jests the revellers had gone.
One pallid rose she holds and kneeling there
In tearful whisper breathes to heaven this prayer:
The songs, the jests the revellers had gone.
One pallid rose she holds and kneeling there
In tearful whisper breathes to heaven this prayer:
"Upon the petals pure of this sweet rose
I press my sinful lips; its leaves unclose
Past visions to my heart of Heaven and God.
Oh save me, Lord, tho' I in guilt have trod!"
I press my sinful lips; its leaves unclose
Past visions to my heart of Heaven and God.
Oh save me, Lord, tho' I in guilt have trod!"
The mother dreams and in the dream appears
Her little child and wipes away the tears;
Within her hand she holds the fading rose
And whispers softer than soft falling snows,
Her little child and wipes away the tears;
Within her hand she holds the fading rose
And whispers softer than soft falling snows,
'Take thou thy rose again and dry thine eyes,
Bright flowers bloom everywhere in Paradise.
And I, sweet mother, wait in joy for thee
To come where roses bloom eternally!"
Bright flowers bloom everywhere in Paradise.
And I, sweet mother, wait in joy for thee
To come where roses bloom eternally!"